written by: Mike Bell
We must build dikes of courage to hold back the flood of fear.
– Martin Luther King, Jr.
I no longer understand this aberrant world:
I am standing, ill, aged, wept in confusion:
Please, for me, explain, without repeated clichés,
then I might hear you and avoid a crossing.
On this side of the brook I did not drink the dark rum,
that fresh blood in the water, the slaughterhouse fall-off:
That upstream slew was held in the foul storm
by time’s broken trees, dipped, raw dams:
But nature’s stoppages are made to give up,
and her stick-jammed wall broke under the rising:
‘This isn’t forever,’ I shouted to you, above the rushing,
as blood clogged the current and the gully turned red.
When all that floats are the clots of dead men,
then we will have gorged on the last of the world.
It is not what I am paid to do
It requires a daily commitment
I cannot complete a crossword, but I will attempt to complete verse complexities
My children will need something to fill the vacuum we all create
These words help me to cry out, cry, and work out why
If I make someone respond, then I will have lived a life worthy of a life.
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